Las Noches School For Arrancar: Ulquiorra version
by UlquiorraNoKokoro
Summary: Ulquiorra is, to say the least, behind on pop culture. He has no social life at school, and finds out just how hard hormones are to deal with when he meets a certain girl... AU, UlquixOC, Ulquiorra-POV, T for language and flashback-violence. DISCONTINUED
1. Meet Ulquiorra

**Hey, people. There **_**is **_**an explanation to what "Ulquiorra version" means. It means that Ulquiorra will be with my OC in this story — and then with Nnoitra version (yes, there WILL be one), Nnoitra will be with my OC. There'll be a Grimmjow version too, so don't worry, people, and there'll even be a Szayel/Ilforte love triangle version. :D By the way, none of the will be from my OC's POV because that is something that I simply cannot do. Okay? Okay. Good.**

**Also, Ulquiorra's personality has been deliberately modified. Don't like, don't read. I'm just making him more like a middle school student, but I don't think that he's necessarily OOC. Plus, I made most of this up - the stuff about his past, his dream career, etc. Trust me when I say that I just got WAAAAY too into it when I was brainstorming.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or the characters, except my OC (Alita) and the characters' parents (character parents are fun! :D). And even if I did, I ****wouldn't make Ulquiorra smile because... well, let's just say I've been traumatized by a few fan-art pictures, all of which depicted him smiling. It was creepy, end of discussion.**

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Hello. My name is Ulquiorra Schiffer and I'm a second-year in middle school (making me thirteen). My favorite word is trash — or garbage if you want; I'm lenient.

It has come to my attention that some of you damned pieces of trash think I'm emo or Goth or whatever. Well, I'm not. I'm not some depressed whack-job who slits their wrist because of hell knows why.

[[A/N: This is by no means used to offend cutters. This is from Ulqui's POV, you must remember, so I have to be a _little_ mean.]]

Also, even though I _am_ the smartest person at Las Noches School for Arrancar, I'm not a nerd. It doesn't matter that my mom grounds me from the computer for, like, two weeks if I get less than a high _A _on a test. Okay, I guess when I put it like that, it kind of does seem like it matters. Oh well. You'll survive.

Back to the "I'm not emo" conversation we were having two paragraphs ago. Who cares if I don't smile? It's just not my signature facial expression, that's all. And it also doesn't change anything that the only color I wear is black. Or that I don't have any friends. Or that I'm so pale it looks like I've got full-body makeup on, like that Robert Pattinson guy (I don't wear makeup; I'd never stoop that low). Or that I —

Why is something suddenly nagging me to quit listing things?

Just an FYI, but I _am_ the only one at school that can Heely down the longest hallway on the west side of the campus without stumbling (while reading a _book_). And I could kick your ass on the half-pipe, whether we're talking about skateboarding or snowboarding.

So that's me in a nut shell, in case you're wondering. Well, that's _Inner_ Me in a nutshell. _Outer_ Me is just kind of… less sarcastic, less of a motor-mouth, _much_ less overreacting, and more boring. I don't run my mouth as much out loud, I don't use sarcasm as much out loud, and I _definitely_ don't cuss as much out loud. But I'm typing this, not saying it. Which means I'm in my "zone," as someone like Grimmjow would say.

All I have to say is, welcome to my world.


	2. I'm Going Insane

**The actual chapters are longer than the intro, don't worry. xD I am seriously having too much fun with this fic, not even kidding. This one will be slower than other versions (which have yet to make their appearance), because the canon character is, well, Ulquiorra. If you haven't already noticed, he's rather slow when it comes to romance. But there will be funny parts (well, I hope they're funny) and dramatic parts and sad parts. Few romantic parts, but I can't make Ulquiorra romantic without making him too OOC. Got it? Got it. :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or the canon characters, and I never will. I only own my OC and the characters' parents.

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I looked up at the great big double doors of my school: Las Noches School for Arrancar (LNS). Of course, I was _so_ happy to be there.

Not.

My mom this morning: "Ulquiorra, you're destined to make a friend this year!" And then she made some oh-so-convincing peachy-cheery face at me. Yeah, right.

Truth be told, I really kind of wanted to tell her that that was a bunch of crapped-up BS and that I didn't need or want friends which, I confess, was more or less a lie. But I couldn't say that to my mom. She's been through too much for me to rain on her parade. (What? You haven't heard me say anything compassionate like that before? No? Didn't think so.)

Unfortunately, Mom doesn't hesitate to rain on _my_ parade sometimes. ("No! You're _not_ taking your skateboard to school, Ulquiorra! I want you to tell me about your first day of eighth grade before you go running off to the half-pipe with all those raunchy kids!")

As I walked the hallway to my locker (we keep the same one every year), I saw a lot of faces that I wouldn't care not to see again. Grimmjow and Nnoitra were looking up porn or something on Grimmjow's laptop, and Starrk and Lilinette were arguing over something I didn't care enough about to remember. Szayel Aporro was explaining something to one of those fat kids that kept following him around. Harribel, Cirucci, and Neliel were talking quietly, looking around at boys and giggling (I don't think I'll ever understand females). Barragan was bullying some short guy for lunch money, and Yammy, Aaroneiro, and Zommari were arguing about some football game on TV. (I don't bother to understand sports, so don't ask me for the details of their conversation. I don't even know the names of moves on a skateboard. Yes, I'm out of touch with society.)

I found my shoe locker and opened the little metal door. I took out my schedule, a wad of paper that had lint all over it because it'd been living in my pocket all morning. Social Studies first. Then Language Arts. I grabbed my textbooks and shoved them in my backpack, heading toward the A-1 classroom.

I plopped down in a seat in the corner. There were only a few kids in the classroom; most were by their lockers talking and giggling with their friends.

Of course, since I basically had no one to talk to at this day and age, I was ineligible for that. Instead, I got to sit in this boring room with a bunch of bumpy maps and posters of internationally famous quotes and globes with tan oceans (why don't they make the water _blue_?) and blah, blah, blah waiting for the bell to ring.

I could just keep describing things to you. I could go on for chapters about what a fat-headed idiot Grimmjow is or how pervy and sexist Nnoitra can be if you let me. I really could, I'm serious.

As the seconds on the clock ticked by, students filed in. Usually they entered the classroom in little clusters of about three or four kids, but sometimes there would be a single person that stepped through the threshold all by their lonesome.

Which made me feel a bit better about myself until someone called their name and raced over to them and gave them a big hug and gushed about how much they missed each other over the summer.

I would get an nasty feeling when that happened. (And later on in this story, I'll get that same nasty feeling, except for a different reason, which I won't reveal at this point in time.)

Finally, the bell rang. Students raced to their seats. Morning announcements came on, and of course no one listened because they were too busy texting and whatnot.

"Okay, class!" the teacher said, standing up from her desk and strutting to her little podium as if she were the Queen of England in a miniskirt (which she was not, I can assure you). "Because this is the first day of school this year, let's go skim over the rules here at Las Noches School."

Everyone groaned (except me; I only frowned in exasperation because I am Ulquiorra the Amazingly Emotionless Genius) because we've all known the rules of LNS since we were in kindergarten.

"Does anyone have an example of one of the rules?" she asked.

Harribel raised her hand. "Don't look up inappropriate images on the Internet during school." Then she started a series of coughs, between which the name "Nnoitra" was barely audible.

Everyone immediately looked at Nnoitra, who seemed to quickly close whatever he was staring at on his computer monitor.

I mentally facepalmed, because, you know, it would contradict my personality if I actually did it outside my mind.

Grimmjow put his arm up.

The teacher turned her gaze to him. "What's your name?"

"Grimmjow."

"Okay, then, Grimmjow. What do you have to say?"

He smirked and glanced at me. "Don't talk to Ulquiorra in class because you know you'd be the only one who'd get in trouble."

The teacher frowned. "Why is that?"

"Because he's such a frickin' teacher's pet that he won't reply to whatever you're saying."

Then I don't know why everyone in the class started giggling, because it wasn't even that funny at all. But I wasn't just going to let Grimmjow say something like that and get all pleased with himself. So I beamed a sarcastic, _If you have time to rehearse your _hilarious_ witticisms in your empty skull, why don't you have time to go get a brain?_ thought at him and gave him The Glare.

I think he pissed his pants.

Well, then, mission accomplished.

No one else offered a rule. The teacher sighed. "Well, I suppose you all know how you're supposed to behave. And I'm warning you, I do _not_ hesitate to give out detentions."

The rest of the day went by pretty slowly. I don't feel like boring you with details of the classes, because 1) I don't completely remember and 2) you won't want to hear it anyway.

But there _is_ one class I do want to describe to you. It was at the end of the day, in science. The teacher threw something really unexpected at us.

"You have a project due next Friday," she announced. "You have to build a model of a cell with whatever household materials you can find. I expect you to already know what all of the organelles are and how they work, considering you learned it in, what, sixth grade? I'll pass out a direction sheet."

Won't be too hard, I thought.

Of course, because I can never just get a break, the teacher said:

"You have to have partners."

I raised my hand.

"Name?" she said.

"Ulquiorra Schiffer."

"And?"

"Are partners _required_?" I asked in a perfect and dishonest monotone that masked what I was really feeling: desperation.

"Only if you don't want to fail the project."

I lowered my arm, and stared down at my desk so the teacher couldn't see my murderous glare. Who the hell was I gonna be able to get along well enough with to do this? Grimmjow? Too perverted and way too stupid. Ichimaru? Too smiley (have you ever heard of geliophobia? It's the fear of laughter; I think I'm a victim). Starrk? He's the only sane one here. Wait, no. I'd end up doing all the work. Um… Aizen? No, because he looks too much like a soap opera character or something.

The teacher went over what we were going to be learning this year, droning on about life science and bacteria and all that crap.

It was then that I noticed the stares of other students. I actually had to force myself not to glare, so many other kids were looking at me. Occasionally someone would turn around and snatch a glance at me, even people I had pretty much known my whole entire life. At some point I just started giving people the old _what-the-hell-are-_you_-staring-at? _look.

Eventually the bell rang. I was almost out of my desk when some girl I'd never seen before walked up to me.

Would you like a description?

Well, it doesn't matter whether you do or not, because I'm giving you one. And I am the one typing this, so there is nothing you can do about it.

The girl had orange-red hair, some of which was pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head. She was really slim; if I was Grimmjow or Nnoitra or someone, I'd call her hot or sexy or whatever word they use, but I am not either of those two perverts or anyone else because I'm Ulquiorra Schiffer and Ulquiorra Schiffer does not think of people as attractive, except maybe this one time because I'm going off in this huge borderline-run-on sentence that needs to end. (Remind me why I'm not failing Language Arts.) I finally met her eyes, her amber stare burrowing straight into my green one.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Alita Hernandez."

"I'm Ulquio―"

"I know who you are," she said, cutting me off.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Do you want to be my partner for the project?"

Well, I wasn't expecting that one.

I think my body decided to move on its own when I caught myself shrugging and murmuring, "Whatever."

I picked up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. Alita Hernandez walked beside me as we exited the classroom.

After we were about halfway down the hall, I had to ask.

"Out of all people to do this project with, why'd you ask _me_?" I said.

Alita blinked, taken aback. I think she blushed, but I couldn't be sure because I don't know what blushing looks like on account of no one has ever blushed at me before. And I've never blushed either, so I don't know how it feels and plus even if I did know I _still_ couldn't be certain what it looked like because the chances of me looking in a mirror and blushing at the same time are about a quadrillion (yes, that _is_ a number, it's got fifteen zeros) times to about thirteen and two hundred forty-five thousandths. To add to all of this, the chances of me even blushing in the first place are only about two percent more likely than the mirror estimate.

…Yes, I do need to shut up.

"I guess because… well, you always just seem so lonely," she replied (_that_ made me feel great… not). "And anyway, my other friends are already partners with each other."

So I was a last resort. I tried not to dwell on that.

"When are we going to work on it?" I asked after a pause, trying to keep my voice firm, which I obviously succeeded at. "I mean, I don't even know you…"

"You wanna come to my house today so that we can go ahead and knock it out?"

I couldn't help staring at her in surprise. She said things like that so easily.

My first day of eighth grade was really screwing with my head. It was about as strange as one of those dreams where you're in your favorite manga. I was definitely going insane.

…Insanity didn't seem _quite_ so terrible, is what I figured.

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**Hey! Do you see that review button right there? You want to click it, you know you do. Come on, click it. Don't be afraid. I love you all too much for you to be afraid. SO REVIEW!**

**Please, please, _please _let me know if Ulquiorra is OOC. I know I've already said I deliberately modified his character, but if he gets too far away from being himself, you guys have got to tell me. Thanks for reading, anyway! It means a lot!**


	3. A Questionnaire and Noodles

**Yay! 2.5 chapters in one day. I actually had written them before now... oh well. I just got done revising them.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or the characters. Except Alita and character-moms (who are always fun xD).

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When I got home (I turned down Alita's offer to do the project today), the first place I went was the shelf in the living room. It had a bunch of yearbooks in it from past years I'd had at LNS.

I bet you can guess which name I was looking for.

I flipped through the stiff pages until I found _Hernandez_. I glanced at the little picture.

Yeah, that was definitely the girl from earlier. Her reddish hair was pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head, and she was sticking her tongue out at the camera. She had a lot less makeup on than all the other girls.

But I couldn't help noticing that the other girls didn't have her looks, even though she didn't have flashy pink lipstick or big curves (I won't go into detail there) or that thick clumpy black crap to frame her bright tawny eyes. (Shit, there I go again, talking about attractiveness… Am I going insane? Yes, actually, yes I am.) Well, I don't know. I can't say I like talking/writing/typing about this kind of stuff. I cannot say it is an area that I am familiar with.

If you're wondering why I even looked Alita up in the first place, maybe you'd like to know that I just wanted to make sure she wasn't a new kid. I mean, I don't ever pay attention to people unless they talk to me directly, so I wasn't sure if she'd been going to LNS before this year.

"Ulquiorra!" my mom called. "You're home. Good. Tell me about your day, will you?"

I was not going to mention Alita. My mom would start talking about girlfriends (to this day I'm still not sure exactly what that is), and I did not want to put up with that topic.

I shrugged. "A few things happened. Nothing really worth talking about."

Mom frowned. "Oh. Okay," she said dejectedly, knowing she wasn't going to get a better answer out of me. "What do you want for dinner?"

"I'll just cook some ramen for myself," I muttered.

"Well, okay," she said, leaving the room.

After that, I found myself flipping through the first grade yearbook. I wasn't smiling in my picture, because the kindergarten yearbook was the only one I'd smiled in. In this one I was staring coldly at the camera.

Grimmjow had been a mischievous little kid. He smiled at the camera maliciously, like he'd just put a tack on the photographer's chair. He probably had.

Nnoitra had a scowl that I didn't think a first-grader was quite capable of. No wonder he didn't have any friends back then. (I didn't either, and still don't, but I'm Ulquiorra, so no one is allowed to call me a hypocrite.)

Harribel had a developed chest even when she was six years old. Not that I really look at that.

Starrk didn't even appear to be awake in his picture. Typical.

Barragan wasn't smiling. I don't know how to explain his expression except that he looked like a complete jerk. (This time you're allowed to call me a hypocrite.)

Szayel Aporro (finally, someone with a regular smile) actually looked like a normal little boy, minus the pink hair, which made him look more like a normal little _girl_.

Yammy was grinning and looked ordinary… if you don't count the fact that he was beefier than the typical fastfood-addicted American.

[[A/N: I'm American too, so no flames.]]

Do me a favor and let me skip describing Aaroneiro. Wait, I forgot. I'm the author. I can do whatever I want.

Zommari was glaring at the camera like he didn't want to get his picture taken. I don't think any of the rest of us did, for that matter.

Neliel was nothing like she is now. Her short green hair framed her little cherub face, and she was holding her arms up, laughing.

[[A/N: You people should all know what Nel looked like when she was a kid, okay?]]

And then there was Alita. I didn't even know she'd been going to LNS since first grade. She kind of looked like she did now, but her hair was much shorter and it wasn't in a messy bun or anything.

I decided looking at pictures was getting boring and shut the yearbook.

With nothing else to do, except cook ramen, which I didn't want to do at the moment, I pulled out a questionnaire one of my teachers had passed out to the class. ("This is going to be your first homework," she'd said. "It's so I can get to know you better. At the end of the semester, I'll hand out another questionnaire just like this one to see how you've all changed. Please answer the questions honestly.")

This is what mine looked like after I filled it out (yeah, sorry, I have bad handwriting… so sue me):

[[A/N: If his handwriting font doesn't show up, just pretend it did. And if it does, and you can't read it, copy and paste it onto a Word document and change the font.]]

_Name:_ Ulquiorra Schiffer

_Gender: _Male

_Mark all those that apply to you._

[ ]_ I have a crush on someone._

[ ]_ I have been bullied before._

[ ]_ I have a lot of friends._

[ ]_ I like sports._

[ ]_ I have had surgery because of a severe injury._

[X]_ I go to the library a lot._

_Fill in the blanks._

_You dream career is to be a(n)…_

none of your business

_List your pet peeves._

1. Grimmjow 5. burnt food

2. Nnoitra 6. soggy ramen

3. text-talk 7. cold sores

4. shoujo manga 8. bad grammar

_Your favorite color:_

none

_Favorite animal:_

none

_Favorite food:_

none

_Did you enjoy taking this questionnaire?_

[ ]_ Yes _[X]_ No

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After shoving the questionnaire back in my backpack, I heated up some cup noodles. I ate with a fork and a spoon; I never really got used to chopsticks even though I'd been living in Japan for seven years.

Mom appeared in the kitchen, and sat down in the only other chair at the table. I guessed she was going to make another attempt at asking me about school.

"Who did you talk to today?" she asked. Just as I'd thought (am I ever wrong?).

I shrugged. "I glared at Grimmjow, but I didn't talk to him. And then this girl asked me to be her partner for a project we have to do for―"

"A girl asked _you_?" Mom cut in. "Really? What's her name? Is she cute?"

I swore mentally, remembering I'd decided not to say anything about the Hernandez girl.

"Alita Hernandez," I said. "Spanish girl with perfect Japanese and red hair. This is for school, though, so don't go thinking she's my girlfr―"

"Is she cute?" my mom repeated.

I sighed. "I'onno. Even if she was, it wouldn't matter."

"Why not?"

"There's not going to be any kind of relationship here," I said rather quietly. And then I though, _Crap_. I was starting to mumble. For me, mumbling is like holding up a sign saying _ULQUIORRA HATES HIMSELF!_

And it's true; though it's something I normally hide flawlessly, sometimes it shows through those tiny cracks in my outer shell. I detest those moments when I can't seem to pull everything under my usual emotionless mask.

"It's unlike you to act self-conscious, Ulquiorra," Mom said. She was the only person that could pick up on my every little emotional change (very irritating).

She continued, "You don't know that she doesn't like you. I think you're really cute, personally."

"I don't _care_ what she thinks of me," I replied, regaining self-control and wiping my face of any previous remorse. "And you're my mom, so I'm not taking your word for it."

Mom furrowed her brow. "I don't think you've got a face only a mother could love, if that's what you're implying. I sincerely think you're attractive."

I tried concentrating on swirling my ramen around my fork in the Styrofoam heat-up cup, but my mind wouldn't think about noodles.

"Well," she said, rising from her seat, "I've got to go to the grocery store to get some milk. We're running low."

She draped her coat over her shoulders and grabbed her purse.

"See you in a few minutes," Mom said.

I held my hand up_. Bye.

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I flipped on the TV. _Katekyo Hitman Reborn!_ was on, but I didn't feel like watching anime. I changed the channel.

On the local news, there was a report about a person getting mauled by a tiger. It took place at some zoo in a town close to the one I lived in.

My town, Kai, is really, really tiny. It was up in the northern half of mainland Japan, so it there was always cold weather; temperatures didn't rise up over sixty degrees, regardless of the time of year.

Kai is so small, people don't even lock their doors at night because they know just about everyone else in town. A lot of families didn't even own cars because they can walk to the market and other people's houses and wherever else they might want to go in this city (if it's even big enough to be called that).

LNS is one of the only schools in Kai, so the grades range all the way from pre-kindergarten to twelfth grade. There aren't any colleges here or in any town nearby, so unless you're not going to complete your education, you have to move out at some point.

The only two places worth going in Kai are (in my opinion) the library and the little half-pipe on the outskirts of town. Mom complains that all the kids at the half-pipe are "trailer-trash and a bad influence."

But I go anyway because skateboarding is the only thing I'm really good at, besides writing; I'm not quite sure Mom understands that.

Actually, no one understands anything. And that stupid questionnaire isn't gonna do the teacher any good in knowing me, except that I'm a _to-hell-with-respect_ kind of person.

"It's so I can get to know you better," she'd said.

Yeah, get to know me, my ass.

The point is, _no one_ gets to know me. No matter how many questions you ask me about my character traits, you won't ever understand my way of thinking. I don't think my own mom realizes what I'm really like. And if I get to know this Alita person, I'm not sure she'll ever get it either.

I'm no good at talking to people, and I don't even smile. (Not that I have a reason to anyway. Besides acing every test I take.)

People don't bully me, because they're afraid of losing their lives, but I know they would if I was stupid. I'm not sure being feared is any better than being picked on, though. Maybe for Adolph Hitler or Mao Zedong or Julius Caesar, but not for some almost-normal adolescent like me.

I decided to quit thinking about it because it obviously wasn't doing my mental status any good. So what else was there to do other than read? (I _could_ go to the half-pipe, but I didn't feel like trying to translate skater lingo into regular Japanese.)

Because I can finish a thousand-page book in a day or two, depending on whether I'm concentrating on it or not, I have to bring, like, five books to school every day. Then Grimmjow (you know, the greaser dimwit) will ask me why I'm reading adult books (I finished reading all the children's and teen's books in Kai's tiny library last year) and I'll ignore him because it's not worth explaining to someone who isn't going to be able to understand it anyway because their brain is composed of a single cell.

I called my mom and told her I was going to the library. She said okay but that I needed to lock the door and not read adult romance novels because they had bad stuff in them and I told her I didn't read adult romance novels anyway but that if I wanted to I should be able to because… and then she cut me off in mid-sentence and told me that to quit being a smart-mouthed headache. So I said fine whatever and hung up.

I pulled my black LNS sweatshirt on and walked out the door, not bothering to lock it.

Do you want to know what happened at the library?

Well, too bad, because I'm going to make you wait until the next chapter.

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**...Which concludes chapter 2. I am having a lot of fun writing this, so review and tell me if you had fun reading it. :D I love you all!**

**And yes, there will be a short love triangle arc near the end, but it won't last. I'm only putting it in to have fun making Ulquiorra jealous. Thanks for reading! Seeya in chapter 3!**


	4. The Library

**Hey people! Here's chapter three. Like I said earlier, I had a lot of fun writing it, so you've gotta review and tell me if you had any fun reading it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. I doubt you do either. If you do, that means you're Kubo Tite, in which case I'm sorry I butchered your Cuatro Espada.**

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Did you pick up the hint I gave when I said "the other seat at the table" back in chapter two? There were only two seats in our kitchen. Did you get that other clue when I said that my mom's been through a lot?

I know I've bored you all to death with background info on my town and all that trash, but you're still wondering where my dad is, right?

Maybe he's away on a business trip.

Maybe my mom and my dad are divorced.

Maybe my mom and my dad weren't married, so I never met him.

Wrong.

He's dead.

So if my dad's dead, and my mom seems to never be at work, does that mean we're getting money from charity or something?

No.

My mom is a famous author, but she uses a pen name, so no one in Kai or anywhere else besides the publishing company knows the one writing all those famous books is Greyson Schiffer. To them, she's Susan Jones who lives in America.

Her books are really popular, so she's making a pretty damn good amount of money by just sitting around staring at computers and wondering how she's going to word her next paragraph. I've read her books, but I never read them at school because they're for… girls. (She's my mom. She _made_ me read them.)

And now you're probably asking, why am I even in Japan anyway if me and my mom's names don't sound Japanese at all?

Before the… incident with my dad's death, we used to live in Germany (my dad's home country). My mom is native to America, though, so I know German and English. My mom liked Spanish, so she named me Ulquiorra and then decided I should be trilingual and so now I'm fluent in that too. You can add Japanese to the mush pot, too, since it's where I lived at the time this story takes place (so yes, I'm quad-lingual). My mom and I were here because it's where my dad's work moved us before he was kill― I mean, before he died.

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Kai's library was probably one of the biggest buildings in town. It was where I spent a whole lot of my time, mostly because I didn't usually see anybody from school. So that's where I was going.

"Ulquiorra!"

The lady at one of the checkout desks waved. (I'm not sure why she knew my name.) "We've started getting Weekly Shounen Jump. Do you want a free copy?"

I walked over to the desk, where the lady handed me the magazine. I nodded and muttered, "Thanks."

I was actually kind of happy that the library started getting Jump. I usually read updates online, because you'd have to drive to the next town to get the new issue, so this was good news to me. I pulled out a chair from one of the tables and sat down.

"Oh, so you like manga?" a familiar voice whispered over my shoulder.

I turned around and found myself staring into someone's amber eyes… no, it wasn't just _someone_, it was ―

Alita.

How irritating.

I closed the comic as fast as I could. No one at school knew I was interested in manga, and I was reluctant to change that fact.

"That doesn't concern you," I said, mentally applauding myself for how monotonous my voice was.

Alita pouted. "You're boring. How am I going to do a project with you're going to talk like that?"

"You tell me," I replied.

She shrugged and changed the subject. "So, what's your favorite Jump manga?"

"None of your business."

"I don't know there was a manga called 'None of Your Business,'" Alita said sarcastically.

"Fine. It's Bakuman."

"You seriously like that? It's got a lot of romantic comedy."

"I only read it because the main characters are geniuses. I liked Death Note too for the same reason."

"Never heard you say so much at once."

"Hn."

"I bet you could answer every question I'll ever ask with just one word, huh?"

I shrugged. "Depends on what you ask."

"Okay."

"…"

"What's your favorite color?"

"I don't have one."

"I love that color," Alita replied. She seemed to like being sarcastic, I observed. "Are you sure your favorite color isn't black? Because that's, like, the only color you wear," she continued. "Mr. Emo."

"I'm not emo," I said quickly. "I'm not emo. I just don't like bright colors. And I'm not emo."

"You're repeating yourself."

When I get mad, I do that; there's no other way to tell that I'm angry. But Alita didn't know it, so it was okay.

"Are you mad or something?" she asked.

Never mind. She did know. So the best thing to do, I figured, was to just shut up.

"You talk a lot more than I expected," Alita said, sitting next to me at the table.

"People tend to say that to me. Or at least they would if they'd bother to start a conversation."

"So I'm guessing you're not the most popular person in the world."

"I wouldn't care to be. I'm too antisocial."

"You need to use smaller words."

"When did I use a big word?"

"You said 'antisocial.' That's a big word."

"It's not if you read books," I said.

"Are you mocking me?" she asked suspiciously.

"No."

"Sure you aren't."

"I'm not. I don't know you well enough to mock you. How could I mock someone I don't even know?"

"Smartass."

"I try."

Alita smiled. "You're not quite as dreary as you look."

"What part of me looks dreary?"

"Your eyes, your face, your clothes, et cetera."

I looked up and met her eyes. "Do you know anyone else with teal streaks going down their cheeks?"

"I didn't say _normal_, I said _dreary_."

"Fair enough."

"Hey, aren't you…" She paused. "Aren't you supposed to be a genius?"

"Why are you asking that?" I asked, beginning to tense up.

"Because last year at the end-of-the-year ceremony on the last day of school, the dean of students announced that you made a one hundred average in every class, even algebra," Alita explained.

I froze. "He said that?"

"Yeah, he told the whole school."

My stomach did a back flip.

She leaned closer to me. "Are you all right?"

I moved away from her stare. "It's not any of your business."

I surprised myself with my reaction. Shouldn't I be proud?

Not really. My body realized it before my brain did.

It meant people _knew_ that I made those kinds of grades. I didn't want anyone to be aware of it. Not sure why; maybe it was so I'd have some hidden ammunition if no one knew.

"Do you not want people to know?" she asked. "And how come you didn't know the dean said that?"

"I skip school when we all have to crowd into the auditorium," I said. "I don't like people."

"Didn't answer my first question."

"I don't have an answer for you."

"It's a yes or no question. Do you want people to know how smart you are or not?"

"No, I don't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Well, do you know how many people made you their idol last year at that ceremony?"

"No."

"About half the audience. Including high school students. Grimm and Nnoitra were practically gagging because of all the attention that was being directed to Ulquiorra the Kid Genius. The dean even said he might bump you up a few grades if you keep it up, and that you'd probably be able to get into a good university like To'oh or something even though you'd be a lot younger than all the other students. That's when Grimmjow really did run outside and vomit."

As satisfying as the thought of making Grimmjow sick was, I still didn't like what Alita was telling me.

I recalled the gazes people were giving me back in science. And then I was next to certain that people looked at me a lot in the class before, and the class before that, and so on.

_Well, duh_, a voice in my head said. _There had to be something going on. Usually you don't get noticed._

"Is that why you asked me to be your science partner?" I said.

"That's part of it. I don't want a dunce to help me do a project, because I've already taken that role," she replied flatly. "I told you the other part of it back at school, didn't I?" She stopped for a second, and then continued, "So do you want to quit being my partner or something?"

"No, because I won't find another one."

"Ulquiorra, anyone you asked would say yes right away if they weren't already partners with someone."

I stared at her for a whole minute, trying to figure out if any of that was true.

"You're lying," I decided.

"I am seriously telling the truth."

I stared at her for another few seconds.

I guess I had a weird look on my face, because Alita burst out laughing a second later.

Then we got kicked out of the library. Apparently we were being too loud, courtesy of Alita.

* * *

**Yay! Chapter 3's done. Haha, my OC is a ditz. How do you like that for a match for Ulquiorra? Stupid, clumsy, hyper, and insane, but someone who can see straight into your heart just by looking at your eyes. Yeah, that fits Ulquiorra, I think. But that's just my opinion. I don't think our main character agrees with me. Oh well! That's his problem.**

**I already have chapter four written, but I won't post until I have a review from 4 or 5 different people. Or until I finish chapter five. I'm trying to stay ahead of the game here.**

**Bye! I'll see you when chapter four is posted, in which Ulquiorra's mom decides she is going to put him through the hell of unrequited (hint, hint) middle school romance.**

**Please review! You see the review button, I know you do. You must click it, or else I won't update.**


	5. I Hate Hormones

**Hey! I decided that I wasn't going to wait for reviews and that if I want any more I might as well keep updating and be patient. Unfortunately, since I'm updating this now, you guys/girls'll have to wait a while for chapter five, because I don't have it prewritten. Plus, I prioritize the length of each chapter (at least 9 pages on a Word document). And I've been reading this fanfiction that has really long chapters, and it has a lot of reviews... So I'll make my chapters longer! I will fight against the horror of short chapters! (Even if it takes me longer to update. :P)**

**Disclaimer: Look, I don't own Bleach or the canon-characters. SO QUIT BUGGIN' ME ABOUT IT.**

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"That was the first time I've ever gotten kicked out of a library," I muttered.

"Yeah, on account of you're so boring and dark and quiet you make gray stone cellars jealous," Alita replied.

I decided to neglect responding to that comment.

"Do you ever even brush your hair?" she asked after a moment.

"Only when my mom throws a comb at my head," I said truthfully.

Alita giggled.

"What?"

"I don't know, you're just funny."

"When did I say something funny?"

"Well, the concept of your mom throwing a comb at your head is funny," she said, "not to mention that you're cold, emotionless Ulquiorra Schiffer."

"What does that matter?"

"It's just goofy."

I quit talking, in order to prevent thoughts of myself as 'goofy.' (I'm such a clown, huh? …No. Never.)

Even though it was spring, the marble outside the library still froze your butt off. Which is why I wear black jeans instead of blue. So after a while of sitting down on the cold ledge beside the library steps, Alita attempted to start another conversation so she would not have to think about how frozen she was.

"Hey, remember that English exam last year?"

I glanced up at her. "Yes."

She twiddled her thumbs. "It's just… I kind of failed it. And the school is making me retake it next month, and I know that no matter how much I study, I'll never make a better grade. And if I fail it again, I might get held back."

"You can't 'kind of' fail a test. You fail it or you don't," I stated pointedly, fully aware that ignoring the whole conversation just to correct her mistake would be very likely to annoy the person sitting next to me.

Like I predicted, Alita gave me an irritated look. "All right, well, I _did_ fail it, but that's not the point…"

"You're implying that you want me to help you study," I guessed.

"Um, yeah."

"Fine."

"Thanks!"

Alita beamed and threw her arms around my neck. My heart tripped up, and I froze.

It was the closest I'd ever been to a girl my age. She was hugging me (how did that happen again?) and her body was pressed against mine. I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all. Or did I?

_We're touching,_ was the only thing I could process, and I wasn't even complaining about it. I shock myself sometimes, I really do.

"What's wrong?" Alita asked, pulling away. It had only lasted a second or two, but I was already dazed.

I took a clumsy step back. "I dislike… physical contact," I sputtered, regaining my senses and responding a little too quickly.

Her happy smile faded into a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

It was then that I decided I hated hormones, because I found myself thinking, _Was Alita this pretty when I met her?_

"Are… are you mad?" she asked unsurely.

I shrugged and started walking away.

_No, I will not start looking at girls in a different light,_ I assured myself. _That just caught me off guard. It won't happen again… I hope not._

"Hey! Where are you going?" she called. "Don't just leave!"

"I'm going home."

"Why?"

"I'm cold," I lied.

"I'll come with you!" She got up and hurried toward me.

"No," I said. "You are not."

"Hey! I'm cold too!"

"Then go to your own house."

"That's not any fun," she pouted.

"Not my problem," I replied.

"I'm coming anyway."

I gave up. "Fine," I said.

_Maybe she'll hug you again_, my inner demon mocked me.

_Or maybe you'll quit irritating me_, I replied.

* * *

Greyson Schiffer dialed her son's number as she entered her house, intending to ask him where he was and then to scold him for neglecting to lock the door.

Ulquiorra picked up on the second ring. "What?"

"Ma'am," she corrected.

"Ma'am," he replied, a small trace of sarcasm decorating the edges of his voice.

"Where are you?" Mrs. Schiffer asked.

"On the way home. I have a freeloader tagging along."

In the background, she heard a girl's voice complain, "I am _not_ a freeloader!"

"Who is that?" Greyson asked.

"Hernandez."

"Oh. Can I talk to her?"

"Wait," Ulquiorra muttered into the receiver.

A second later, a girl with a cute kind of voice said, "Hello? Mrs. Schiffer?"

"Hello," Greyson said. "I'm Ulquiorra's mom. I really hope he's not being too obnoxious."

"No, not all."

"You're lying."

"Darn, you busted me."

Greyson smiled, something she tried to do twice as much as usual in order to compensate for her son's ever-monotonous expression. "All right, well, you can come over to our tiny little house. If it's not an invitation from our rude little friend Ulquiorra, then it's an invitation from me. Just ask your parent's if it's okay, honey?"

On the other end of the phone, Alita smiled too. "Okay, Mrs. Schiffer."

"Oh, and Alita?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Give my son hell, won't you? I believe he's bored with his life."

"Haha. Okay, Mrs. Schiffer."

Greyson heard Ulquiorra ask, "Why are you laughing?"

Alita ignored him. "Hey, Ulquiorra's cell is about to die. I've gotta go."

"All right then, honey, hurry up."

"Bye, Mrs. Schiffer."

"Bye, Alita-chan."

Greyson clicked her mobile shut. She did not feel like a very good mother, because she was already thinking up a plan to rip Ulquiorra's emotions from their hiding place and then watch them get thrown around by a girl (namely, Alita).

The events to come would indeed be very enjoyable for Mrs. Schiffer. Not for her son, though.

* * *

"What's your favorite word, Ulquiorra?" Alita asked me.

"_A__ntidisestablishmentarianism_," I replied. "There's _pulchritudinous_ and _hyperventilating_, too, plus _honorificabilitudinitatibus_."

"I'm sorry I asked," she muttered.

She and I were in my house, sitting across from one another in the den. I was sitting with my knees pulled up to my chest, chewing my nail.

"You look exactly like Lawliet," she pointed out. "With your messy black hair and paleness and frog-sitting."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"What, you don't think L is cute?"

"You remember that I'm male and therefore do not think about that kind of thing."

"Huh? You're a boy?"

"Hilarious."

"Well, you're a beanpole. You're too thin to be a boy," she replied.

_You're doing _wonders_ to my ego_, I thought sarcastically. I didn't say it out loud, of course, since that would contradict my personality.

My mom walked in and asked an annoyingly abrupt question. "Do you know any other languages besides Japanese, Alita-chan?"

She shrugged. "I know a tiny bit of Spanish, because that's what my parents are, but I was born in Tokyo so Japanese is my main language."

"Really? Ulquiorra knows Japanese, English, German, and Spanish," Mom boasted.

I frowned. What was that feeling? It might have been embarrassment, but I only read about that in books, so I didn't know.

"And, he's thinking about studying Mandarin," she continued.

Which was not exactly true.

Alita gaped. "You know _four languages_?"

"I've lived in a lot of different places," I replied. "And it's really not that hard, so―"

She jumped out of her seat, beaming. "That is _sooooo_ cool! You're the smartest person I've ever met, Ulquiorra! You've _got_ to help me with the English exam! I didn't know you were fluent! Say something in English, say something!"

I turned to Mom and said in the requested language, "Mom, why did you tell her about this? Now she's going to _talk_ to me at school, and then she'll start thinking she's got some special relationship with me."

"Don't you want such a pretty girl to talk to you every day?" my mother replied in the same language. "She was going to find out sometime anyway, because didn't she say something about an English exam?"

"You didn't have to tell her about German and Spanish. And I didn't say I was going to study Mandarin Chinese. I only said that it would be a good language to know."

Alita was watching us excitedly. "What are you saying?"

I started to tell the truth, but my mom cut me off.

"Just talking about how nice you are," she lied cheerily.

"I said nothing of the sort," I muttered to Alita.

"I know," she muttered back. "You're not nice enough to say that."

Much to my annoyance, Mom kept chattering excitedly, not even noticing that neither of us were listening.

"Hey, Ulquiorra, where's your room?" Alita asked.

"Why do you want to know?" I said.

She raised her eyebrows at me. "Why do you think?"

My eye twitched. I couldn't have helped it, because if I could, it wouldn't have happened.

Alita caught on.

"You gutter-mind," she grumbled. "That's not what I meant."

_A pretty girl is going to see your room_, my inner demon said, cackling. Oh yes, it was quite the clown.

_That's it_, I thought. _I'm going insane. First it was hormones, now it's schizophrenia._

I got up and walked towards my room. I didn't let her see my face, because my lips were twitching in an effort to fight a sudden urge to smile.

Wait.

An urge to smile? What was happening to me?

Looking back on this particular story, I repeatedly blamed my actions on insanity, right to the very end. But that won't ever be the case. I was just changing. Though for better or for worse, I had yet to see…

* * *

**CLIFFHANGER!**

**...I wish.**

**Anyway, I'm having a lot of fun with Ulqui's inner demon. He'll make more appearances in the next chapter, and he'll be even more annoying (for Ulquiorra, at least). :D**

**Also, when Alita asked Ulquiorra what his favorite word was, the first word he had listed was 30 letters long. But FF won't let it show up, so I just stuck with antidisestablishmentarianism, pulchritudinous, hyperventilating, and honorificabilitudinitatibus. (Fun Fact: That last word is one of the only 17-letter words Shakespeare used in his plays. Makes me wonder if they had to leave that line out when they were actually acting the play.)**

**Now, why don't you go ahead and click that pretty little review button...?**


	6. Revision

**Hey, guys 'n girls (even though I seriously doubt there are any guys reading this). I would like to apologize for the length of this chapter. It's shorter than chapter four. Sorry. When I got to what it is now the end, my creative juices ran dry. Plus, the ending just seemed so _right _for this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Do you _really _think this story would be on this Website if I owned Bleach? Because if I owned the manga in question, this wouldn't be a fanfiction, now would it?**

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I flipped the light on in my room.

Alita looked around. "Is everything you own black?"

"No," I said. "There was another bedroom in this house, but I turned it into a library, and the book covers aren't all black. And even if they were, the pages would be white. Though, of course, the text _would_ be bla―"

"Haven't I already called you a smartass once today?"

My room wasn't necessarily all black, but it _was_ dull. Not that I cared. And it wasn't like I was an interior design artist. (Yeah, sue me, whatever. I could be my own lawyer and still win the case against your braindead hired one.)

"Your room is boring," Alita commented. "And didn't you say you had a library? I'm getting a sneaking suspicion that you're lying, because you've got, like, ten bookshelves in here."

Being the klutz she was, she stumbled over a stack of Harry Potter books.

"Dude!" she cried.

_Dude?_ I thought.

"You have WAY too many books― whoa, is this in _English_?"

Alita fingered through the pages of the fifth one. "I can't read it. Can you?"

I nodded.

"Wow!" She smiled.

_She's getting more and more annoying_, I thought miserably.

_But she has a nice smile_, said my demon. _And a nice voice._

_It doesn't matter, because she talks too much_, I replied.

The Demon snickered. _Which implies that you agree with me anyway, right?_

_No, I didn't…_

Alita waved her hand in front of my face.

"Ulquiorra! Why are you staring?"

"I'm not," I said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away.

"You completely spaced," she said. "I thought you were a zombie or something."

_I didn't space_, I thought. _I was having a schizophrenic conversation with an incredibly irritating voice in my head._

_I heard that_, the Demon grumbled.

"So what do you do in your spare time?" Alita asked absentmindedly.

"Is that any of your business?"

"Nope."

I paused. "I write."

"What do you write?"

"Books."

"Really? Cool. Can I read one of your books?"

"I've never actually had anything published."

"Have you ever tried?"

"No," I replied.

"Can I read one of your books anyway?" she said, getting excited. "I mean, you're good at everything else, so why not writing?"

"No."

Alita looked around the room again and seemed to notice for the first time my huge collection of notebooks. She picked up the first one she spotted.

"Is this one of your books?" she asked.

"Yes, but don't…"

Alita opened the composition book, ignoring me. She stared at its contents for a couple of seconds, then closed it again.

"What's up with the little notes everywhere?" she asked, deadpan. "And I can't even read your handwriting. I mean, seriously, can't you just write a story without filling the margins chock-full with memos?"

"I was revising."

"Couldn't you be a bit neater about it?"

"No."

In truth, I really was very organized about editing it in the beginning, but I kept taking things out, adding things in, and rewording dialogue. So naturally my revision got messy after a while. You can't do everything with a pencil and paper, even if you've got a good eraser.

"Don't you have a cleaner copy?"

"No. That story never made it to the computer."

"Why not?"

"There were others I liked better."

(Actually, it was because I couldn't read my handwriting well enough to copy it onto a Word document. I'd started writing the story a long time ago, so I was constantly fixing things I didn't like about it, and eventually it got so cluttered I gave up.)

Alita sat down. "I'll try to copy this down onto another piece of paper."

"Why?"

"Because I want to. Do you have a blank notebook?"

"Yes," I replied reluctantly.

* * *

Alita finally set the pencil down. "That was difficult. Your handwriting sucks."

She handed me the newer notebook. Her handwriting was girly and flowery and I almost couldn't read it.

"I like it," she said.

"What?"

"Your story. I like it. You should keep writing it."

"Why?"

"Because it's good. I want to see what happens next."

"I could just tell you," I suggested.

"No," she said. "I want to read it. I like your writing style, Ulquiorra."

I noticed that she had addressed me by my name for the first time. "Fine," I said, placing the notebook on my desk.

I flinched when Alita's cellphone rang. Her ringtone was an Aqua Timez song, I think… Niji? Maybe. Sorry, J-pop was never my thing.

"Hello?" She paused. "Oh, hi Mom. …Yes, I'm at my friend's house."

I glanced at her sharply. At her _friend_'s house? As far as I could tell (and I'm a genius, so that's pretty far), this was _my_ home. Unless… oh, God, seriously?

She ignored me and continued talking. "I don't know. Whenever you want me to. …Okay. Okay. Bye."

"Since when was I your friend?" I asked the second she clicked the phone shut.

"What else was I supposed to say to my mom?" she asked. " 'Oh yes, I'm at the house of a this freak-faced genius who doesn't know how to be polite.'"

I blinked. That really stung. (I didn't let it show, though. At least, I don't think I did.)

Alita saw the surprise on my face. "Sorry, sorry," she apologized quickly, holding up her palms in defense. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings…"

"You think I care what other people think?" I replied. "That's more insulting than the last thing you said."

Alita shifted her feet, uncomfortable. "Uh, sorry. Okay? But look, I have to go home now. My mom is almost done cooking dinner."

I nodded, as relieved as she was to be off the other subject.

Wait, what was that right there? Relief to get off of an awkward subject? What was I, a blob of goo?

You know, there was a reason I was antisocial. It's because stuff like this could happen. No, it _will_ happen. You put two people in a room to talk for at least four hours, and no matter how close they are, they always end getting into a disagreement at some point.

Or when a _family member_ dies. When, before you really know what's happening, someone important's gone and suddenly you just don't give a damn about friendship or love or any of that other garbage.

That's why intimacy is useless.

Because we will all die at some point, so will relationships. So will things you used to care about.

So that's why I've always asked myself, _Why?_ Why should I bother with friends when they are inevitably going to die sometime in the future?

_Maybe you really _are_ emo after all_, the Demon cackled.

_Great time to barge in_, I replied sarcastically. _Great time to _get lost_, too._

"Um, Ulquiorra? You're zoning out again."

I shook the Demon out of my head to find Alita peering at me curiously.

"Um, I need to go home," she told me again.

"Okay. Go tell my mom," I replied, over the discomfort of the previous subject.

She left the room. I heard a "Bye, Mrs. Schiffer, bye Ulquiorra," and the back door opening and closing.

I was not overly devastated that Alita had left, so I went ahead and finished reading the Jump issue I'd gotten at the library as if the prettiest girl I'd ever met had not just been in my house.

_Hey, you're getting somewhere with this hormone thing, Ulquiorra_, the Demon giggled. _Finally realizing the difference between cute girls and not-so-cute ones._

_Why don't you just go away?_ I asked, annoyed.

_I'm a figment of your imagination. I _can't_ go away, you idiot_, the Demon drawled mockingly.

_To hell with you_, I replied, and tuned out any further comments by the other being who was now apparently going to be annoying me for the rest of my schizophrenic life.

Thirty minutes later, I glanced at the clock.

It was only seven o'clock, and I had nothing to do.

So when I spotted the notebook with the newly-rewritten tale, I sat down, turned on my laptop, and opened a Word document.

* * *

**You know what I just noticed? All five of the chapters so far have taken place in one day. I decided, I need to move on to Day #2. So that's what I'm doing! Chapter 6 will officially take place on the _second _day of Ulquiorra's eighth grade career! :D How awesome is _that_? (Yes, whatever, I'm over-dramatic.)**

**And people, I know you know how to click that gorgeous little review button right there. SO PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!**


	7. A Traumatizing Revelation

**Sorry this chapter is waaaaayy overdue! But it doesn't matter because I'm starting to REALLY have fun with this. I had initially intended for the "traumatizing revelation" to be "revealed" later on, but I didn't know how else to end this chapter.**

**Anyway, this goes out to my reviewers (I love you guyz):  
****Ninjaladybug  
****UlquiorraRoxx  
****Mity  
****fate child  
****setokaibagirl749  
****Kavyle  
****Impstar  
****MiloMaxwell**

**To fate child: I think you should totally write that story, and no, I'm not an UlquiRuki fan. I'm not a big fan of semi-crack couples.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. If I did, Ulqui-chan and Grimmy would still be among the living.

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_Good morning, huh?_ you say.

No. Quite the contrary.

I had a headache, I was exhausted, and I absolutely did _not_ want to sit through a conversation with a bubbly, hyperactive Hispanic redhead at seven thirty in the morning. I would probably have to anyway.

I trudged to my shoelocker and opened the door. The second the locker's contents were visible to me, I knew something was missing.

Usually I had a pile of books crammed into the little metal compartment, because you can never have too many to read instead of listening in English class, which, by the way, never challenged my mental capacity. If only the teacher knew that I was reading an untraslated American novel under my desk while he was rambling on about a sentence in English that wasn't even grammatically correct.

Today, though, there were only five books in the locker. I clearly remembered leaving six before I had left the day before.

So now my _book_ was missing, and I didn't have any energy to try and remember where the hell I'd left it. Great. Let's just keep adding to the pile.

But because I am probably the most unlucky person in the world (in proportion to monetary status),the next thing I knew someone was tapping on my shoulder.

I turned around, fully expecting to see Alita. Unfortunately, there _were_ times when I was wrong.

"Cirucci?"

She smiled sweetly. "Ohayo."

"Ohayo," I replied, a little dumbstruck.

Two things were very wrong: 1) Smiling sweetly? _Cirucci?_ and 2) Me, _dumbstruck_?

You people are either going to have to sue the author of this fanfic or make her write a formal apology to Kubo Tite, because she's butchering his characters again. And even I can tell when people aren't acting like themselves.

Thoroughly confused (a state of mind that furthered my bad mood), I turned back to my locker. I must have been hallucinating from lack of sleep.

"Ulquiorra," Cirucci said.

I turned back around. "What?"

"I found this yesterday," she explained quickly, holding out a book that looked a lot like the one that I'd lost. "It was near here, behind the trash can. I just happened to spot it as I was walking out the door, and it had your name in it…"

I took the book. "Thank you," I muttered, and turned around again, even though her story seemed more unlikely than not. Books aren't visible behind trash cans if it happens to be in a corner, and the trash can she pointed to was definitely in a corner. Oh, well. I wasn't a detective (even though I had the ability to be).

Cirucci beamed again. And right when she turned around, she came face-to-face with Alita.

The redhead grinned. "Ne, Ciru―" She stopped, her smile fading. "Why are you making that face…?"

Cirucci brushed past her and disappeared into the crowd of students.

"What were you two talking about?" Alita muttered, now next to me. "She had this smug look on her face…"

"She found my book."

Alita's expression went blank. And then a rather malignant grin spread across her.

"You know she likes you, right?" she said.

I was silent for a second, then turned to face Alita. "What?"

She started giggling hysterically.

"Cirucci likes you," she said, smiling. "She's got a crush on you. Thinks you're cute or something. But don't ask me why she thinks that. You're no bishie."

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have believed that. But how Cirucci had acted was not normal, so I had no choice but to deem it true.

However, there was something annoying me. I chose to let my alternate personality point it out, because he inevitably would.

_Alita implied that she thought you were unattractive_, the Demon sniggered. _How does that make you feel, Ulquiorra?_

_I could not _possibly_ care less what she thinks_, I replied monotonously.

_So it wasn't love at first sight?_ the Demon wondered teasingly.

I contemptuously pushed the Demon to back of my mind. Such feelings were not typical of me, so I refused to try and understand what my alter ego was rambling on about.

I shut my shoe locker.

To my surprise, Alita walked with me to my class. Then I remembered it wasn't just my class, it was hers too. We were both in A-1.

Unfortunately, since my otherwise intelligent brain did not realize that even small actions (such as walking alongside an "unpopular" individual, which was exactly what Alita was doing) would have social consequences for my acquaintance, I was also puzzled to find the eyes of most of our classmates following us.

"They're staring," I observed.

"Of course they are," Alita said. "I'm pretty popular, according to Nel. And you're the emo guy that sits alone at lunch with his face buried in a book."

"Does it bother you?" I asked. "That they're staring."

"Why do you care?" she retorted.

"Curiosity."

"Well, no, I _don't_ really care that they're staring," said Alita. "They can stare all they want."

"Why do you think that?" I pressed.

"Because you're my friend, even if I'm not yours," Alita replied, smiling. "And I'm not going to abandon a friend just because my social status would drop."

Something in my chest constricted, but I didn't let it show on my face.

_You're pathetic_, the Demon laughed, emerging from the back of my mind. _But it's okay, because it's really cute._

For once, I agreed with him. I was absolutely pathetic. A single girl was cracking all my defenses against these stupid emotions.

But this was an entirely different feeling than the terrible one I had had as a result of my father's death, the event that had sobered me and made me realize the reality of life.

What I was feeling just then was something altogether unusual. Something better, warmer. It was like…

_Happiness_, the Demon finished for me. _You're happy that someone cares enough about you to ignore peer pressure. Gee, you sure are stupid for a genius._

I looked back at Alita, and she grinned. "I know. I've been reading too much _Naruto_. The chapter this week was really corny. Sasuke asked Naruto why he kept fighting and Naruto was like, 'Because we're fr―'"

"I know," I cut her off. "I read it."

"Oh yeah. I remember."

By that time we were in the A-1 classroom. Alita sat down in the desk beside me, much to the surprise of our classmates. And me.

I shot her a glance, and she just shrugged and muttered, "There isn't a seating chart. I can sit wherever I want."

And she said _I _was a smartass.

* * *

Alita had offered to sit with me at lunch. I said no because if I had to talk to someone at lunch, it would critically lower the average amount of time I spent reading each day.

And of course, just when I was opening my book…

_Have you noticed that Ggio Vega keeps looking at Alita?_

There wasn't even any privacy in my thoughts anymore.

The demon continued. _I think he likes her. What are you going to do about it, Ulquiorra?_

_Nothing_, I replied. _It doesn't concern me._

_Alita and Ggio, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the―_

I cut him off. _I'm trying to read a book. Be quiet._

_Is it because you're _jealous_?_ the Demon said. _I mean, it must be pretty painful to imagine the girl you like kissing another guy._

_I don't like Alita_, I retorted. _Even if I was capable of that, I wouldn't _like_ her anyway because I just met her yesterday._

_Is that so?_

_Yes_, I thought.

_You don't like Alita?_

_I do not. She is bearable but not necessarily desired._

I felt the Demon smile in a way that implied he was up to no good. _She will be. And you won't be able to do anything about it._

I waited for him to continue, but he had gone silent.

Now to finish my book.

* * *

Alita stared at the paper. " 'A-Ai habu a p-penushiru…'?" she read slowly, trying to pronounce the sentence correctly.

" 'I have a pencil,'" I corrected her in English, and then continued in Japanese, "In _pencil_, there is no _shi_ sound. Just _si_."

"R-Right," she said. "This is so hard, Ulquiorra. I don't know if I'm going to be able to take this exam. It's too difficult."

"It's not difficult," I said. "Once you get the gist…"

Alita frowned. "You've known English since you were born, so of course it's not hard for _you_. And you're a lot smarter than I am. You're a lot smarter _most_ people. So can we start with something easier?"

I avoided her eyes. We were sitting in the Kai library, and she'd been commenting on how I was "so effing smart" for the last twenty minutes. I didn't know how to reply, because I wasn't used to compliments, and I wasn't about to say thank you. Plus, I would get a weird feeling in my stomach that made it hard to speak anyway.

I shuffled through the papers and notes I had aimlessly, mainly to let the growing feeling in my stomach ebb off.

"Do you know the English alphabet?" I asked. "Not the sounds, but the letters."

Her eyes trailed away from mine. "Um…"

Rather disappointing. No wonder she failed that exam.

I rubbed my face. We had a long way to go.

"Before we do anything else," I said, "you need to memorize the English alphabet. Right now you're just reading katakana, and you're even having trouble with that. On the exam you have to be able to write English sentences in Japanese. That means translating."

Alita nodded. "You'll teach me?"

"Yes," I replied. "Its alphabet is one of the least complicated things about the language. There are only twenty-six letters and they're much simpler than hiragana, kanji and katakana. I don't think you'll have very much trouble with it."

She beamed.

I blinked a few times. The strange feeling had returned to my stomach. I expected the Demon to make a remark at this point, but as far as I knew, he wasn't there.

After Alita received a phone call from her mother urging her to come home quickly, I wrote down the alphabet for her and told her to study it when she got home. She nodded and left.

I sank back into my chair and picked up my book.

Before I started reading, I waited for the Demon to say something like, _She's got a nice ass._ But there was nothing.

I opened the front cover of the novel, satisfied that I had possibly overcome my schizophrenia.

* * *

"_Ulquiorra…"_

_There was a voice calling my name. The pure whiteness of my surroundings was almost blinding, so I didn't bother look around and search for the voice's owner._

"_Ne! Ulquiorra!"_

_This time I did turn._

_Standing in front of me was… me?_

_But something was different. Something about the eyes and torso. The eyelashes were longer, and the chest was…_

_Oh, yes, it was me._

_Only she was a girl._

_Girl-me smiled. "Hi. Do you remember me?"_

"_No," I deadpanned._

"_Hm, really?" she pouted. And then she giggled._

_Wait… that voice…_

_Recognition hit me like a brick._

"_You're my…" I started, but didn't quite finish._

"_Alternate personality?" she supplied, smiling malignantly. "I'm hurt that you couldn't tell I was female. Truly injured. You kept using a masculine pronoun for me. And by the way, my name is Awase. Now, how does it feel to have an inner girl?"

* * *

_

My eyes snapped open.

I stared up at the white ceiling of my room, which didn't look very white because my room was pretty dark at the moment. I wanted to turn on the light and get some juice or something from the refrigerator, but Mom would have gotten cranky if I woke her up in the middle of the night.

More importantly, the dream. No, the nightmare.

The Demon was a _girl_?

I had always assumed that she was a more perverted portion of my thought processes that had just decided to make its appearance in my life. Not a female.

_Perverted? And the name's Awase. Get it right._

Ah. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. (Or in this rather traumatizing case, _she_.)

_Are you implying that I'm the devil_? Awase grumbled. _That's not very nice. And I'm not a perverted guy. I'm a romance-obsessed girl and I'm part of **you**._

Part of _me_.

Why was my life hell?

* * *

**Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	8. Third Time's the Charm

**Okay. I confess. Alita was getting boring, fast. So I put a little twist on her. :D Anyway, sorry if this chapter took a long time. I don't really think it did, compared to some other people on here. Also, Alita says a lot of cheesy things, but it's for the hopefully original plot twist I said I was putting in.**

**Twelve pages on Word! I'm getting somewhere. Enjoy~**

**WARNING: Loads of foreshadowing. Well, not _loads_, but more than I've ever decided to include before.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, besides Alita and character parents. And Kai.**

**

* * *

**

Two weeks after I started tutoring Alita in English, she was still having trouble with the subject. I wasn't trying to teach her the whole language, just the basics, but she was still finding it overly difficult.

"What don't you understand about this?" I asked her one day after school.

Alita's usual happiness had been diminishing more and more with each day since I had started helping her with English.

"I'm just dumb," she replied, her face in her hands. "You've helped a lot, Ulquiorra, because you're so smart, but… I just… I just can't…"

"Why not?" I pressed. "What do you find the hardest?"

"I've already said a million times that I'm too stupid."

"That's an inadequate answer," I replied.

"Dude, I don't even know what _inadequate_ means," she mumbled.

"It means it doesn't satisfy me. I need more of an explanation."

Alita sighed. "Look, my dog died last week, and I haven't been able to get my mind off of her. I keep thinking about how she isn't there every day to greet me when I get home… that's why I haven't been able to concentrate. I've been thinking about Maron-chan too much."

I was silent. It bothered me that I didn't already know about this. Alita wasn't someone who kept her troubles to herself; she usually just blurted out everything. So why hadn't she told me…?

But what really bothered me was that this even bothered me in the first place. I convinced myself that it was only an observation. An observation used to analyze the situation. _Because the alternative doesn't exist. Because I don't care if no one bothers to tell me about their troubles or whatever. I don't care that I'm not that important in anyone's life._

"So what makes you _not_ think about it?" I asked, regaining my composure.

"I don't know, and my dog isn't an _it_. She's a she."

"Regardless," I said, exasperated. "Answer my question."

"Well… food, I guess," Alita said. "When I get hungry or when I'm eating I don't think of anything other than food."

_What is she saying?_ I thought. Then I reassured myself, _She's too stupidly innocent to be implying anything like a… like a… a date, right?_

"Is there anything else?" I asked.

"Not really," she said. Then she suggested, "How about we go get something to eat? Then you can talk to me about English and I won't be thinking about my dog."

"I don't really…"

"No, it's fine!" Alita exclaimed, beginning to shove her notes and papers into her bag. "We can go get ramen or something."

She grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet. When she let go, I shoved my hand in my pocket, surprised at the sudden contact.

Alita was oblivious to my reluctance to go through with her idea. "Come on, let's go, I'll tell my mom that I ate dinner with a friend and you can tell your mom the same thing."

What she didn't realize was that if I told my mom something like _that_, I'd get bombarded with questions once I got home. (Example: "The 'friend' was Alita, wasn't it? Was it a date? Oh my gosh, are you two going out? Or are you still just friends? How did it go? Was she nice?" And so on.)

Alita looked at me and smiled brightly, and my heartbeat sped up.

_Somebody kill me_, I thought. _Me and my useless teenage male complex._

_With pleasure_, came the taunting voice of Awase, my irritating inner demon. (By _demon_ I mean _girl_. Although it doesn't really matter which one I use, because they are, quite frankly, the same thing.)

_Not you. You can't kill me_, I informed her. _You said yourself that you were just a figment of my imagination._

_Oh, did I say that?_ she asked in an overly innocent voice, even though I could picture the mischievous smile beginning to stretch across her face. _I'm sorry. That's not exactly what I meant. Though I can't actually kill you._

I waited silently for her to continue.

_In a sense, I _am_ part of your imagination_, Awase explained in a more serious voice, _simply because you are forming into words the feelings I'm directing at you. See, I'm not actually talking right now or anytime; I'm just an instinct. The thing is, your brainpower is so massive that you're subconsciously converting the signals I'm sending you into words and phrases. I'm guessing it's because you're an author. Anyway, I'm something completely different from what you thought I was. I'm not your alternate personality, even though I said I was. I was lying. I'm actually a being that your subconscious mind has created because it wants desperately to accept feelings such as happiness, worry, sadness, embarrassment, and love, but you won't let it. The only one you've realized is anger. I'm here to help you figure out how to tap into your emotions, which is, evidently, a task you're rather bad at. Isn't it funny how, even though you're only thirteen, you're aiming at your fifth language, you can outsmart your teachers any day, and you can tear up long-standing scientific theories, but you can't even begin to do something that's second nature to most people?_

_And you're going to use Alita to help me "tap into my emotions,"_ I guessed. _Because you're not a physical being, and therefore you can't._

_Right. She's going to be your first love. Wouldn't that be so romantic?_

_No. She's too unintelligent for me._

_Stubborn, aren't we?_ Awase giggled. _Ah, well. I can tell she's more complicated than she acts. Then again, all girls are; you're going to have deal with them all your life._

"My cousin owns a ramen stand," Alita was rambling. "Maybe we should go there. Or the sushi bar near the market. Or…"

"I'm not hungry," I said. "You decide."

She looked at me unsurely. "Did you not want to do this?"

And thus, she figures it out.

"I don't care," I said. Sorry. I'm not the most honest person you'll ever meet.

"Oh, okay. Do you want to go to the coffee shop? They have muffins there."

"I thought I said I didn't care."

Alita smiled. "If you get any colder, I'll need a jacket."

"Can I have the copyrights to that line?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

* * *

The coffee shop wasn't crowded and was more comfortable than the library. The only problem was that Alita would occasionally get so engrossed in her _muffin_ that she'd disregard my lectures completely.

"Alita," I said for the millionth time. "Are you listening to me? A muffin cannot possibly be _that_ interesting."

"Oh, yes it can," she countered. "Have you ever had a muffin before, Ulquiorra?"

"Yes," I lied.

"Oh," she said. "Well, you must be insane. Or is it your emoness that gives you the justification to not think muffins are wonderful?"

"Say the word 'emo' or any of its variations one more time and I will kill you."

"With what? Your IQ? Because as far as I'm concerned, that's the only sharp thing you've got." Alita slapped the table, her sides shaking with laughter. "Ooohh, I crack myself up."

"IQ _is_ the only thing you need if you're going to kill someone. Intelligence is more deadly than any material weapon you can think up," I replied, not very amused by her _joke_.

"Oh, shut up," she said. "You're going to give a headache. Geniuses are so annoying, going and using giant words and weird metaphors and whatnot."

I was about to say that I didn't need to be a genius when I was surrounded by so many idiots, but before I could get it out of my mouth, someone else got something out of theirs.

"Are you two going out?"

Of course _Grimmjow_ had to walk in right when my mood was starting to lighten up for the first time in about a decade (not an exaggeration).

"No," I said. "And even if we were, how would it concern you?"

Grimmjow smirked and pulled a chair up to our table. He sat down.

"It wouldn't," he said. "You think that I care if it's my business or not? If I see a pretty girl going out with an ugly guy, I get bothered." He locked eyes with Alita. "Hey, Hernandez. Havin' fun with this emo bastard? What's he doing, telling you how awesome the last book he read was?"

Alita blinked. "No. He's helping me learn English."

"Oh, so he's flaunting his skills, is he?"

"Nope, I asked for his help," she replied honestly. "Ulquiorra is smart, and I'm kind of dumb, so I wanted him to help me with some stuff."

Grimmjow looked slight taken aback. I almost began to think he'd given up on making fun of me. Almost.

He grinned dangerously. "And he agreed? That's cute."

"Who said Ulquiorra can't be nice once in a while?" she retorted. "He can be a jerk sometimes, but he's not that bad! It's just that no one bothers to talk to him because he's… kind of a recluse. But it doesn't matter, because he really is my best friend."

I would have cut into the conversation and said that they needn't talk about me as if I couldn't hear them, but I was too busy dwelling on what she'd said.

_He really is my best friend._

Her best friend? Me? Since when?

"What?" I said, making eye contact with her. "When did you decide that?"

Alita shrugged. "I don't know. I just kind of realized it one day. You're not a bad person, you're just misunderstood, and you're not afraid to say what you feel. You're smart and no one admires you more than a D-student like me. How could I not at least _want_ to be best friends with a person like you?"

My heart tripped up. What?

I mean… I had no response to that. And even if I did, I wouldn't have been able to voice it anyway because my brain was malfunctioning. And when it was malfunctioning, it couldn't send nerve signals to my vocal cords.

Grimmjow had to smother his laughter with his hand. "Dude, the love in the air here is so thick I could cut it with a knife. It's making me nauseated."

Alita's face reddened. "What are you talking about? Is it illegal for a girl to compliment a guy?"

"At this day and age, yes," Grimmjow replied. "I'm telling you, it's gross. I'm getting sick."

"Then go vomit outside," I said evenly, directing my attention to Grimmjow. (I only got tongue-tied when I was looking at Alita.)

"He's not even denying it!" he said, glancing at her.

I glared. "What use is there in telling the truth to one who will never regard it?"

"Ooh, I'm scared. I think I just wet my pants, Schiffer. You use so many big words, you're giving me a headache."

"I'm sure I'm capable of that," I replied, "considering how small your vocabulary is, and the fact that I know four languages and you're monolingual."

"Show-off."

"Who strips in front of females?"

"Hey, Schiffer, at least I _have_ a body to show off, unlike you. All you do is sit around and read and write all day."

"At least I have the mental capacity to do that."

"Uh, guys…," Alita started, but Grimmjow cut her off.

"The mental capacity? The mental capacity?" he sneered. "I don't know if you're aware of this, _Ulquiorra_"―he spat my name―"but I _do_ make in the top fifty ever year on the exams. My name's been on the board plenty of times before. Don't tell me I don't have the mental capacity to do anything."

I mocked him. "_I don't know_ if you're _aware_ of this, _Grimmjow_, but my name is at the _top of that list_ every time. You hover around the middle. And no, I did not say that there were things you didn't have the mental capacity to do; I simply implied it."

Once again Alita attempted to direct our attention elsewhere.

"Guys," she said. "I'm about to crack…"

"Are you calling me stupid?" Grimmjow snarled, paying her no mind. "I'm sorry I'm not a frigging genius like you, but at least I can talk to people. At least I look and act like a real person. At least I'm not a recluse who can't do anything but ace tests and read books."

"I can do plenty of things I know you can't," I said, barely managing to keep a monotone. The anger was starting to seep through.

"Like what, Mr. Kid Genius?"

Alita's voice rang out a third time, but now it was much lower than usual. "I'm about to smash both of your heads in if you don't shut the hell up."

Suddenly, even the eyes of the other customers were on her.

Alita popped her knuckles, and several people cringed. "Yeah, okay. We get it. Grimmjow, you're super athletic and popular and hot but you're a C-student." She paused. "Ulquiorra, you're _not_ a jock and you have such a lack of friends you're not even on the social scale, but you're still the smartest guy in the prefecture." Another pause. "You're equal. Now, you can both shut up before I _bash your heads in_."

_Has she always been this violent?_ I wondered. _And… her vocabulary seems to have gotten more sophisticated._

Alita's eyes didn't look lighthearted anymore―they just held a dark anger. I knew that the scuffle between Grimmjow and I had been making her uncomfortable, but did it make her _this_ angry? That made no sense.

I glanced at Grimmjow. His eyes were clouded with fear, as if he knew something I didn't. (Nothing new. To this day no one ever tells _me_ anything anyway. I'm a genius, but I can't figure things out if no one ever bothers to _tell_ me anything. It's really not fair at all.)

"I'm leaving," he muttered. "You two are freaks."

He evacuated the premises. And when I say _evacuated_, I mean _evacuated_. He didn't take his time, I can tell you that.

I looked back at Alita.

This time her eyes were closed, and she was breathing deeply, but the anger still lingered on her face. Her fists clenched and unclenched and clenched again.

Finally she broke out of the trance and looked up, and her eyes held something that hadn't been there before: intelligence.

But then she blinked and it was gone. The light emotions came back to her eyes.

Alita smiled. "Sorry. I'm just stressed."

I didn't take my gaze away from her face. Something was wrong. There was more to this girl than middle school female emotions; maybe she wasn't as stupid as I had originally thought.

There wasn't anything on her face that provided any clues about reason behind her behavior. But there had to be _something_…

A thought wandered into my mind.

_Alita _does_ have a pretty face…_

"Ulquiorra?" Alita said. "You… uh… you're staring."

I blinked. "What?"

_It's true, Ulqui-chan_, Awase commented. _You were wearing a really dreamy expression. It was pretty cute._

"You were staring," Alita told me.

"I was not."

"Yes, you were."

Suddenly my face felt much hotter than usual.

"Let's leave," I muttered. "I need to ask you about something."

"Ah… okay," she said, sounding concerned.

We made our way out of the shop. I looked around; it had already gotten pretty dark.

I kicked a rock. "What was that back there, Alita?" I asked finally.

"Eh… what are you talking about?" she said innocently.

I frowned. "You're putting up a pretense, and it's not working. I know you're smarter than you act."

Alita's fake confused expression disappeared. She was a deer caught in headlights.

"Look," she said, her voice lower again, like in the coffee shop. "Is this really something you should be concerned with? You were right, though, I'm smarter than the person I'm pretending to be."

"Pretending to be?"

"Yeah. I'm not the Alita you know. You know how people were staring as we were walking through the hallway? They weren't fearing _for_ me."

"They were _fearing_ you," I concluded, catching on immediately. "They know more about you than I do, and evidently they're more scared of you than they are me. The look Grimmjow gave you, too… What's going on?"

She smiled a dark smile. "I'm popular now. I've got friends. I've been forgiven. So why do you need to know?"

"Why do I need to know?" I repeated. "Why do I need to know. I don't, actually. So never mind."

Alita scoffed. "Fine, I'll tell you, but for your information, I _did_ see through that reverse psychology. I'm just being nice." It was her turn to kick a rock.

I smirked, barely. A dark, intelligent Alita? How fun.

She sighed, and started talking.

* * *

**OMG! A cliffhanger.**

**Don't worry, Alita-chan's ordeal isn't _too _complicated.**

**NEXT CHAPTER: Alita's Story!**

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are wonderful (hint, hint)!**


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